Emily in France 🇫🇷 A White Night in Paris
After 17 years, I finally made it to dîner en blanc
I have not historically been someone who’s in the loop about, well, anything really. Trends eluded me when I was younger, so much so that I actively stepped away from them, choosing the emo-pop-punk studded belts and black hair dye to hide from the fact that I definitely didn’t know how to flat-iron my hair. I rarely found myself listening to the music or watching the shows du jour, and I often nodded along at cultural references, secretly reminding myself to look them up when I got home.
But even I have been aware of perhaps the most famous secret pop-up dinner to take place in Paris, the Dîner en Blanc, which sees tens of thousands of merry-makers dressed entirely in white take over an outdoor space for a festive, bring-your-own dinner one night each year. The date and place are usually so shrouded in secrecy that those who don’t attend only find out about it once it’s already happened, and when my friend Allison Zinder invited me to accompany her, you can bet I jumped at the chance.
This year, the leadup to the Olympics meant things went a bit differently than usual. Rather than meet in central Paris, as is often the case (last year’s dinner, I’m told, was on the Place des Vosges in the Marais), we were all bussed out to a secret location from myriad drop points in the city center. While we waited, we stared worriedly at the sky, hoping that the incessant rain that has befallen Paris pretty consistently since the beginning of the year (the rainiest since 1937) would hold off, echoing promises to one another that It never rains on Dîner en blanc.
And despite a few dribbles as the buses pulled up, the axiom proved correct.
You could feel the effervescence onboard the bus as we all tried to guess where we were headed. Finally, we unloaded in the pretty Parc de Saint-Cloud, toting our tables, chairs, three-course meal, and multiple bottles of Champagne down a sandy path until finally, we were graced with this sunset view.
Dîner en blanc isn’t necessarily about the food. Most of our neighbors had topped their white-linened tables with selections from a local traiteur or even Monoprix. But Allison, a trained chef, and our host, Chef Randall Price, pulled out all the stops.
For the starter, Allison made seasonal white asparagus and a borlotti bean salad seasoned with basil and walnut oil. I contributed homemade vinaigrette, made with the only Dijon mustard actually made in Dijon.
For our main, we feasted on Chef Randall’s scallop ceviche with pink grapefruit, red onion, pink peppercorns, coriander, lime juice, and chile, as well as a mustardy potato salad and a cucumber-avocado salad. And we finished with a cake I’m still dreaming about: a giant pistachio macaron stuffed with layer of lemon curd with diced strawberries, and mascarpone whipped cream on top.
If I lack pictures of anything but the Champagne, it’s merely because night had fallen by the time we filled our plates – and honestly, I’m not mad about it. The memories are far more visceral than any photo would have been – especially considering that the party ended as magically as it had begun. At midnight, everyone broke down their tables and trundled off with their trash, and in instants, what had been a vibrant party was nothing more than an open field.
As I toted my suitcase of wooden stools home at 2:30am, I could feel Paris humming, vibrating, welcoming summer at last.
Cheese of the Week
I wouldn't be “that cheese girl” if I didn't contribute a cheese to Dîner en blanc, so of course I went with this thematically-appropriate chèvre, one of my current faves. Mothais-sur-Feuille is aged on a chestnut leaf, which lends it even more moisture and balances the acidity of its super-thin rind. Inside, expect an almost marshmallowy texture and an herbaceous flavor. It’s far more mild-mannered than most American chèvres, making it a surefire crowd-pleaser – especially when paired with a summery glass of rosé, or, indeed, Champagne. It’s also soon to become France’s 47th AOP cheese.
To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.
What I’m Eating
Les Petits Parisiens is the perfect date-night spot, a bistronomic restaurant at the far end of the 14th where upgraded comfort food is served in a lovely dining room kissed with bistro-inspired details like a wraparound zinc bar and tiled floors. From the complimentary gougères to the pitch-perfect rice pudding, I frankly found it flawless. More on the blog.
Where I’m Going
To America, to see my favorite people – who also just so happen to share my face.
What I'm Writing
1. Not writing per se, but… I joined Maria Liberati on her podcast to chat about artisou, a cheese from the Haute-Loire that I discovered thanks to Ferme d'Amathée (from 16:50).
2. From the archives: Parisian viennoiserie offerings are evolving and changing, as quality, choice and a resurgence of regional specialities buck the boulangerie status quo. For France Today.
3. From the archives: American journalist and noted natural wine advocate Alice Feiring discusses common misconceptions about the category. For InsideHook.
Friends of Emily in France
I’m surrounded by some pretty exceptional entrepreneurs, writers, and tastemakers, and I think you should know about them too! From now on, each week, I’ll be profiling one person I think you should be aware of.
Fanny Ghalem is the talented pastry chef behind La Petite Main Gourmande, a pastry school based in Paris you can access from anywhere in the world. With her online pastry courses, offered in French or impeccable English, Fanny guides you on a discovery of French classics from Paris-Brest to brioche, offering her tips and tricks for the easiest homemade croissants or the very best homemade praline spread. Warm and engaging, Fanny is the perfect person to help you get a taste of Paris from your home kitchen.
Should you find yourself in Paris, you can also hire Fanny for your in-person pastry classes offered in the city center. And if you want to infuse your newfound technical knowledge with a bit of history, she and I have teamed up to offer a four-hour pastry-making workshop beginning with a discovery of one of Paris’ top pâtisserie-dotted streets and finishing with an in-depth cooking class where you’ll add your own flavor to a French classic.
Follow Fanny on Instagram to keep up with her delicious updates, and reply to this email if you're interested in learning more about our joint project!
FAQs
In an attempt to bring you the content you crave, I've solicited your help. What questions can I answer for you? Drop them into the newsletter chat, and I’ll answer as many as I can!
This week’s question comes from Chloé Braithwaite-Cvetojević, a travel journalist and travel editor of The Tide Magazine based in the South of France.
“Can you please do a video on cutting cheese? If I had a euro for every time I got aggressively told off for being « un sauvage », I’d be richer than Bezos.”
This is an excellent idea, and I’ll definitely be delving into cheese cutting in a future Instagram reel. But in the meantime, I thought I’d offer a few general notes.
When cutting cheese, the overall approach operates on three basic principles:
The outside of most French cheese is edible, and cheese tends to age from the outside inwards.
You don’t want to ruin anyone else’s piece when taking your own.
It's nice to be able to put away a piece that resembles the one you took out of the fridge.
With this in mind, round cheeses (Mothais-sur-feuille, Camembert) should always be cut like pies.
Log-shaped cheeses (Sainte-Maure-de-Touraine) should be cut into coins.
Planks of cheese (Comté) should be cut into batons, and doorstop-shaped cheeses (Roquefort, but also sometimes Comté) into triangles. (Most people don't eat the rind of Comté, which tends to have a dusty aroma. But you do you!)
Brie is the most contentious – and the most difficult to explain without the aforementioned video, but you know I’m going to try. I like to cut Brie by cutting wedges on an angle, alternating the direction of the wedge so that the piece from which you are cutting always remains approximately a triangle. When you get close enough to the outer rind that you can cut long slices that don’t crush the cheese, change directions.
And above all… never cut off its nose.
Hope that’s clear! But if not, I have a solution. Join me in Paris for a guided tour of the fromagerie, followed by a tasting (and course in Cheese Cutting 101) at your hotel, at a local covered market, or even in a wine shop accompanied by a glass or two of tasty French wine. Book your tour today!
What I'm Reading
1. Rebecca, Not Becky is a topical novel thinly veiled as a friendship story, but ultimately it above all digs deep into the nuances of white allyship and woke politics. I didn't fall in love with it the way I wished I had, but the dual POV definitely made it a propulsive read. I also appreciated the mirroring between the two stories, notably the similarities between the protagonists' struggles in their marriages, and especially their roles as daughters-in-law.
2. This incredibly succinct and yet incredibly thorough explanation (in English!) about why French voters are going back to the polls in a few days. In French Crossroads.
3. This story about the tradition – and theater – of Asturian sidra, aka natural apple cider. In Imbibe.
A bientôt !